


Caed'mil, elaine

by viveriveniversumvivusvici55



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Female Witcher OC - Freeform, First Meeting, Pre-Relationship, the inherent eroticism of a sword at your throat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26883826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viveriveniversumvivusvici55/pseuds/viveriveniversumvivusvici55
Summary: The meeting of a different witcher and a different bard. The rocky first chapter of a love story.
Relationships: OC/OC
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Caed'mil, elaine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreaminglestrade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaminglestrade/gifts).



> And I am back on my writing at work bullshit again, Lisa. All for you. Lara is her OC. Ariadne is mine.
> 
> Title is Elder Speech for "Hello, beautiful."

Geralt and his bard were, at this point, practically legendary at Kaer Morhen. Their partnership filled songs in every tavern, yes, but there was something to be said about a bard that forced a witcher to take better care of himself. Geralt had come back to Kaer Morhen one winter with an actual spark of joy in his eyes, warmth in his face, and fewer injuries that had healed unattended. It was a revelation, and it got to the point that the few other Wolves were considering finding bards of their own, Ariadne among them. The Path was lonely, and she had a faint hope that having a bard with her would help grant the legitimacy that her gender took away.

_How many people didn’t believe her to be a witcher because she was a girl?_

(She didn't want to give overly curious strangers the story of a child surprise shoved into a witcher's arms, of a promised future away from her family where she could learn a new skill, of an angry wyvern, of a decision to save her at what cost. They didn't deserve that peaceful answer, only that there may be more women out there with glowing eyes and fangs that would bite them if they tried anything foolish.)

(Maybe that was also why she hoped for a bard to travel with her. So someone else could explain. So maybe those overly curious strangers would leave her alone.)

How to catch a bard, tough? Geralt had found Jaskier by accident, he said – the bard had walked right up to him in a tavern and refused to leave him alone. Ariadne wasn’t sure if she could pull off the same. Maybe she’d put out a contract of her own? Or see if someone in Oxenfurt knew someone with as much gumption and resilience as Jaskier Pankratz. She’d spun out a few scenarios in her mind over how a recalcitrant witcher could find someone to travel with.

Admittedly, she’d hoped it wouldn’t be like this.

“Well, hello _,_ ” Ariadne crooned, voice deceptively at ease compared to the sharp dagger resting at her throat. It punctured her dark skin just slightly, blood beading at the edge of the blade and threatening to spill down into her armour. It came from behind, at a slightly lower angle to indicate that the person was shorter than her, and the quiet steps indicated someone who knew how to sneak up on someone without being noticed. “Is this where you ask for my money?”

“You were following me.” A woman’s voice, tinged with an accent that crept out of the northern climes. Clipped consonants, w’s turned into v’s. Trying to be menacing, and Ariadne couldn't quite decide if she'd hit the mark.

Ariadne sighed. “No. I am not following you. I am following different prey, which may now be getting away from me.” Dammit. She’d been following this leshen for some time now, destroying its totems, trying to anger it. It was going to make a decision, now it was either going to run from her or charge at her, and she _really didn’t need the distraction._ “May I at least see who I am supposedly following?”

“If you must, _dh'oine.”_

Elder Speech. An elf? Ariadne turned slowly, hands staying where they were, and looked down at the woman.

She was an elf. Blonde hair, scarred ear tips, sharp grey eyes. A bard, from the lute on her back, and a dagger tight in her hand, held in a way that meant she knew how to use it. A bow and quiver of arrows hung over her shoulder, next to a well-worn leather bag. The emblem of the Scoia’tael shone bright on said bag, the twin lightning bolts, and Ariadne tried not to wince. But the woman looked her over, frowning at the hand resting by a dagger (steel), pausing at the wolf emblem resting against Ariadne’s dark leather armour…and then stopping in horror at her eyes. The cat eyes, yellow and gleaming, peered down at the woman’s own grey eyes.

“ _Vatt’ghern.”_ The words were spoken in the familiar way, terror and venom wrapped up into one word. The dagger came down and the bard backed away, eyes wide with terror. “But…you’re a-“

“Woman. I know.” Ariadne’s voice was blank, the accent curling her words along with the half-snarl on her lips. The disbelief was getting tiresome at this point. “Clearly witchers were not outsiders enough, so they decided to make it even more difficult for me. A gift, I know, one I will treasure for the rest of my life."

The dagger did not lower. Ariadne's snarl stayed as it was as she stepped forward. "Now, please consider the reality of your situation. A witcher, alone in a forest, with no horse, nothing to indicate traveling, and with two very sharp swords. What, pray tell, do you think that means?"

The woman's mouth opened to answer, probably with the response of 'you're hunting something', when Ariadne’s senses picked it up. The cracking of branches. Footsteps in the grass. The cawing of crows.

_So it decided it wanted to play._

“Duck.” Her left hand shot forward, drawing the Igni sign in the air, while her right reached up to wrap around a sword. The silver blade _sung_ as it slid out of its scabbard, gleaming in the low forest light, she swung it in a sharp arc. As the flames burned into the murder of crows, her sword slashed through them, making the leshen scream. At the edge of her senses, Ariadne heard the elf dive away, and while the beaks were sharp, pecking at her skin, Ariadne stood her ground until she was certain the other woman was out of danger. Foolish or not, she didn't deserve to be torn apart by this thing. After a few sharp swings, the crows moved backwards in unison and coalesced into the shape of her quarry.

Shit. Not just a leshen. An _ancient leshen._

The leshen screamed, Ariadne snarled in response, and she charged, silver in hand. Fighting a leshen was a tricky dance on a good day, never mind against an ancient one. She had to sink her blows in before it summoned wolves to fight her, and the best spot to get it was the vulnerable spot on its back. That meant far too many rolls, and if it turned into crows, she would have to chase it until it decided to form again.

An arrow flew over her shoulder into the leshen’s exposed back. It screamed again, and Ariadne used the advantage to sink her sword in deep. The howl that the beast let out rocked the trees, and Ariadne ripped out her sword, diving backwards. She chanced a look away from the leshen to see the elven woman in the branches of a tree, dagger sheathed, arrow nocked to a readied bow. Good. Perhaps she was a fool to stick around, but one who knew weak spots.

“Aim for the back!” Ariadne called up. “And if there are wolves, keep them off me.”

“Got it!” The woman's voice wobbled a little with fear, but she did not hestitate. An arrow sunk into the front of the leshen’s shoulder as it turned toward their voices, eyeless skull staring them down.

Ariadne had trained with her brothers for years, and they had worked out an effective rhythm to their joint fighting. It was almost a dance - of security, of knowing someone had your back. That had taken years of practise and training, and Ariadne hated fighting with others who didn’t know that rhythm.

But this? They had just met, and the woman knew exactly how to work with her. There was never a danger of the arrows hitting Ariadne, nor of the arrows missing their targets completely. It was no polished dance, honed over years like a blade, but it was effective. The leshen went down with greater ease than Ariadne had expected, and they sunk the final blow together. One arrow into a lifeless eye socket, and the glean of a two handed sword swing cutting through its thin neck. The body crumpled to the forest floor with a thud, the cacophony of crows finally dying down. Ariadne huffed out a breath and wiped her sword clean before sliding it back into the scabbard. She drew a knife instead, digging into the leshen’s neck to rip off its head.

“What was that?” The elf called from the tree.

“An ancient leshen,” Ariadne replied, voice steady as she hacked into the wooden neck. “Forest spirit. Lives only to kill. Bitch of a thing to hunt, but the town nearby have been unable to hunt for some time.” Finally, the deer skull separated from the neck and she rose, holding it by the antlers. Its dark blood dripped onto the grass, and Ariadne turned her eyes from its body up to the tree. 

The woman frowned at it as she unhooked herself from the tree and slid down the trunk to the ground. Her boots landed on the ground with barely a sound, and Ariadne raised a dark eyebrow. A woman who had been trained to be quiet, to sneak from a hiding place and approach with little notice. Definitely Scoia'tael. "And you were hunting that."

"I'm a Witcher," Ariadne reiterated. "I'm paid to."

There was a moment of silence as Ariadne drew a burlap sack out of her pocket and slid the head into it, tying it shut with cord. Best not to terrify the townsfolk anymore than they already were. She swung the head over her sword and nodded to the woman. "Thank you for the assist."

As she turned to go, the boots moved forward in the grass, squelching a little as they stepped in the blood. “Wait!”

Ariadne paused, head turned slightly to indicate that she was listening. The woman rushed forward, stepping around Ariadne and staring her down. Her expression was determined, a similar look to when she had tried to be threatening, but more...hopeful, this time. “Take me with you?”

_…what?_

"What is your name?" Ariadne managed, hoping that she didn't look as dumbfounded as she felt.

"Lara."

"Lara," Ariadne began, letting the name roll off her tongue. “Why on earth would you want to come with me?”

“It’s safer with you," Lara gestured slightly to the bleeding bag handing in Ariadne's loose hand.

As much as Ariadne would have loved the company of a beautiful bard, she had to go through this. “…you are aware that I am the opposite of safe.” She lifted up said bleeding bag, shaking it a little so drops fell to the ground. "This is not going to be the last contract I take in this area, and definitely not the most dangerous thing I will face."

Lara's expression was still determined, but something made her head tilt down, not quite able to meet her eyes. Finally, she murmured something, and it was only due to Witcher hearing that Ariadne could even pick it up. _"Safer than an elven woman travelling alone."_

Ah. Point taken. Ariadne's boot had become well-acquainted with the groins of men like that. After a brief moment of thought, she nodded. "Then you had best make sure you can keep up, Lara, and you can travel with me until winter comes."

Lara's eyes snapped up to hers, searching her expression, before a bright smile slid across her face. " _Diolch_ _!_ You will not regret this."

Ariadne's slow beating heart thumped painfully at the sight.

_I doubt I will._


End file.
